A Different Beginning
by SlyStrukk
Summary: In response to the LuvaboydanHesmyman Challenge. What if Harry ran away from the Dursley... and was brought up by someone Dumbledore wouldn't exactly improve of? HD slash. Chapter Three up!
1. Running to a Better Life

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, I am just borrowing the characters for a bit.

**Author Notes: **Okay, well this is in response to a challenge and it will be Harry/Draco slash, but it might be a while until I can get to that part. I have many years of Harry's life to cover, after all!

**BTW:** Due to something that **Katlyn** told me, I decided to repost this chapter. She was right... spelling 'mommy' with an 'o' instead of a 'u' was a big mistake. Harry is British after all.

_Blah_ is thoughts

**BTW: **THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT REVIEWED!

**Chapter One:**

A tiny boy lay crying on a small cot in the cramped up place that he called his bedroom. He could feel bugs (something he was terrified of) crawling all over his bruised bloodied skin. Ever though he wanted to scream in fear of the small critters, he knew better. His aunt and uncle surely wouldn't like that, and after the beating he just took, he didn't want to make them mad at him for making noise.

He was a pale child because he never got to go outside and his bright green eyes shined with tears. His body was so thin that you could count his ribs and he had long black hair that hung limply on his head. Because of how long the abuse had been going on, you would think that he would have scars all over his frail body, but this was not the case. The only scar he had was the one on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.

He didn't understand why he was treated so different from his cousin or why they never gave him a name; they always called him boy. At first he thought it was because he was smaller then his overweight cousin and thought that maybe if he was bigger, they would love him.

That was why he snuck into the kitchen when they were asleep, hoping to gain enough weight to where they wouldn't hurt him anymore. Unfortunately he stepped on the remote, causing the TV to come on at an extremely loud volume and wake Dudley. This caused him to get one of the most severe beatings of his five-year-old life.

After they'd shoved him in the cupboard, he heard them talking in low voices about when they were going to kill him. The boy didn't know exactly what that was, but he knew it happened to his parents and they never came back. That's when he realized that he had to leave.

With as small whimper, the boy slowly lifted himself up so that he could see if the door to his 'bedroom' was locked. The boy sighed in relief when it opened with a small click. His uncle must have been so mad that he forgot to lock it.

Careful not to step on anything that might alert the Dursleys of his escape, the boy painfully made his way to the door that would insure his freedom. As he stepped out the door, he took one more look at the place that had caused him so much torment before closing the door silently behind him.

The little boy walked as fast as he could with his injuries, afraid that his uncle might do that killing thing to him if he was found. The shadows made by the trees and houses almost made him want to go back to his cupboard but he kept walking, jumping every time he heard an unfamiliar sound.

After nearly an hour of walking, he felt himself fall to the ground. Unable to move from all the pain shooting through his small body, Harry Potter, The- Boy-Who-Lived, cried to himself until he fell unconscious on the side of the highway.

* * *

When the boy awoke he found himself in an unfamiliar place. It smelled clean, but not like his aunt's kitchen. He could here people talking and moving around. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at his surroundings.

Fear filled him as he realized what the place was. A hospital. Dudley always used to tell him that when you went to hospitals that they stuck stuff in your skin and took little children away from their mummies and daddies.

Hearing the door in the room he was in close, he whimpered and pressed himself against the bed.

"Oh, it's okay sweetie. I won't hurt you; I just came to see if you were awake so that we could feed you. Why you're all skin and bones!" Standing there was a slim woman who looked a few years younger than his aunt. She had long black hair that hung in a braid down her back, warm blue eyes, and a tan complexion. She was very beautiful and the small boy looked up at her with innocence that only a child could have.

"Who are you?"

She walked over to the bed and smiled down at him. "Just call me Contessa, I'm the doctor that that will be taking care of you. I was the one that found you on my way to work. But enough about me, what's your name?"

"I don't have a n-name." Harry said innocently to the woman that he'd only met a few moments ago.

Contessa was still smiling at him, but it seemed more forced than before. "Well, a cutie like you has to have a name!"

"B-But my uncle… he calls me boy. Is that my name?"

The smile completely disappeared from Contessa's face, and fearing he's said something wrong, Harry curled himself into a ball. He'd learned long ago that there was less of you to hit when you were smaller.

Seeing this, Contessa quickly put a smile on her face. " I don't think that's your name. Would you like me to pick one for you?"

The small boy looked at her wide eyed, "You mean I get to have a name?"

"Of course, everyone deserves name! Who on earth told you otherwise?"

She looked at the tiny boy and was surprised to see tears falling down the child's rosy cheeks. "M-My uncle, he saided that I was a bad boy but I didn't mean to be a b-bad boy."

Slowly, as to not startle the boy, she lifted him into her arms, careful not to aggravate his wounds or the IV in his arm. Contessa rocked the crying boy until she felt the tears stopped. Then he looked up at her with the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, and she felt rage at anyone who had hurt such an innocent child.

"Oh, kiddo, you're not bad. It's the people that did this to you that are bad." She began to stroke his thick black hair. "You've got the most beautiful coal black hair, has anyone ever told you that?" He shook his head mutely and laid his head on her chest so that he could fill her beating heart. _He's so trusting for someone that has been hurt the way he was, _she thought._  
_

Suddenly an idea popped into Contessa's mind. "I know what your name could be; Mikael! Do you like that?"

The boy lifted his head and a tiny smiled graced his lips as he nodded. Feeling happier than he had ever felt in his short life, Mikael curled up against Contessa and let himself be rocked to sleep. Contessa put him back in the bed, freezing when she saw the scar on his forehead.

* * *

Mikael held on tightly to Contessa's hand as they traveled out of the children's ward and into the elevator. After staying at Surrey's Medical Center for a week to recover from his wounds, he was off to the orphanage. He still didn't completely understand why he couldn't staying the hospital with Contessa forever, but she told him that he would go there with other children so that he could get a new mommy and daddy.

They walked out into the parking lot and stopped by a red sports car. Contessa opened the door and buckled Mikael's seat belt, giving the boy a small smile as she closed the door and walked to the other side of the car. The truth was that she was saddened to see him go. Somehow the small, shy boy had managed to worm his way into her cold heart.

Contessa wasn't exactly what you would call kind, or popular with her colleagues. She once heard the term frigid bitch used to describe her and she couldn't deny that she did come off a bit… cold to most people.

She'd always been a bit bitter.

Looking back, she would have to say that she started to become bitter when she was six. Her mother asked her to watch her ten-month year old sister for a moment while she prepared the baby formula.

A moment was all it took for her little sister to pick up a button lying forgotten on her couch and put it into her mouth. Contessa didn't realize that anything was wrong until it was to late. By the time she had called her mother, Miranda was already dead.

Her parents never said that they blamed her, _no_, the silence was much worse. She could feel their contempt for her, their gazes of disgust, and the way their voices seemed to drop ten degrees when they talked to her.

At school things weren't much better. The other children would call her a weirdo because of her dark complexion and icy blue eyes. Even the teachers were a bit wary of her because of the way she never talked to anyone in school and managed to get perfect grades.

Her mother Angela walked around like the living dead, becoming a mere shadow of herself. She couldn't get over the fact that her healthy baby girl had been taken away from her by a cruel twist of fate. Every time she walked into a room with her mother, Contessa would feel the stares of her mothers' dead black eyes until she could handle it no longer and practically run out of the room, whispering an excuse about doing homework.

She felt those stares until she was ten and her mother overdosed on painkillers. Her father, Joseph, once a respected doctor, fell into despair when he heard about Miranda. When his wife committed suicide, he hit rock bottom, loosing both his job and the house that they lived in.

On the eve of her eleventh birthday, Contessa got two letters that changed her life. One was a letter that invited her to go to Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the second was a letter of invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although Hogwarts was closer, she chose Salem because she would be able to spend the summer holidays away from her drunken father.

The next few years were the happiest of her life. In her sixth year she met the someone she believed to be the love of her life, Richard. To make a long story short, they broke up when she discover that he was a Death Eater.

The only reason he'd been with her was because Voldemort ordered him to because she was one of the most powerful witches of her time. Richard was there to sway her to the dark side and if he couldn't, kill her. Even though Contessa was a muggleborn, the Dark lord was willing to overlook her 'dirty blood' because of the power she possessed. After all, his father was a muggle too.

Contessa broke it off with Richard and he was sent to Azkaban. A few years later, she heard about Harry Potter defeating the Voldemort and she couldn't have been happier. As far as Contessa was concerned the bastard got what he deserved for ruining her life. When she heard of the Dark Lord's defeat, she decided to take a break from the Wizarding World and became a muggle doctor.

She remembered smoothing back Mikael's hair and seeing the scar on his forehead. When he fell asleep she put an illusion charm on it. She vowed that she would protect him from anyone or anything that would want to hurt him. Whoever left Mikael with those people obviously didn't care enough about him to see if he would be safe there. He was destined to be a pawn between good and evil and she wasn't going to let that happen.

_I wish I could- no don't think that. _Honesty, she was thinking about adopting him but he could find a better family than a bitter twenty-four year old. And besides, adoption was a long progress and she doubted that they would let her adopt him because she would be a single parent.

She was pulled out of her musing someone pulling at her wrist. "Contessa, why can't I stay with you, I don't want to go to that place."

She glanced into his pretty green eyes and said, "Mikael, they are going to put you with a nice family that can take care of you."

"B-But you're the nicest person ever! Don't you like me?" They pulled into the driveway of the orphanage.

"Of course I like you! I wish you could stay with me, but I don't think they would let me keep you."

Mikael stared at her for a moment and then smiled. "All you have to do is tell them that I want to live with you and you can take me home!"

Contessa parked the car and said, "Sorry kiddo, it doesn't work that way."

Mikael began to cry silently. "Why not?"

Contessa stared at him for a long time and thought, _Yeah, why not?  
_

Suddenly a wicked idea popped into her head. _It's not as if they have a birth certificate or anything. All I would have to do would be erase a few memories, destroy the papers that said he checked into the hospital as a John Doe, and get out of the country. It would be as if he never existed.  
_

"Mikael, how would you like if you could live with me forever?"

Mikael blinked and stared at her for a moment before giving her a huge grin. "I would like that a lot!"

"Good." She smiled at him and quickly left the parking lot before heading in the opposite direction. "I'm going to my house, and I am going go to my work for a few minutes, do you think that you can manage while I am gone?"

"Yes, my aunt and uncle never took me nowhere."

She clenched the steering wheel at the mention of those monsters and said, "It will only be for a few minutes."

"Contessa, does this mean you are my new mummy?"

**TBC** So was it good? Bad? Review!


	2. Sappy Moments

**Author's Note: **Hi! I promised a new chapter so here it is. I hope you all like this chapter!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter… duh!

**_Thanks to_** **Katlyn** (Thanks for telling me about the whole 'mum' 'mom' thing. I know that English people say mum instead of mom but I guess it must have slipped my mind when I wrote the first chapter. I've already corrected the mistake but it might take a while to show up in the first chapter), **Elisandra1**(Well… I changed the name because I was getting tired of Kristy because no last name really went well with it. I changed Cole's name because I didn't like the sound of Cole and Contessa. It didn't sound right to me, lol.), **Brigitte **( Lol, thanks for the review! It still surprises me anyone would beg me for my stories…), **DemonRogue**, **driven to insanity** (I hate the Dursleys too…. Grrr… lol.), **HecateDeMort**, and **angelkitty77** **_for reviewing… I LOVE YOU GUYS!_**

**Chapter Two: Sappy Moments**

Contessa Lamia walked calmly down the brightly lit corridor of the children's ward in Surrey's Medical Center. Nodding pleasantly to her colleagues as she passed then, Contessa inwardly smirked at the shocked expression on their faces. Even a 'frigid bitch' as they put it, could be polite.

Anyone who saw her would think her nothing more than another doctor… not someone who was about to commit a serious felony. A serious felony that could land her a life sentence in one of Britain's many jails… or in Azkaban.

Honestly, she didn't why she was doing this. Mikael was a cute kid, that much was true, but was he really worth the risk of getting a life sentence with Dementors? She'd heard of that man, Albus Dumbledore, and knew that if he even got a whiff of what she was doing, she'd be sharing a cell with Sirius Black. Ever since Contessa had become a pediatrician, she'd took an almost unnatural concern and care with her little patients.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she specialized in abuse cases, and all the children who she treated had been hurt by the people who were supposed to love them the most. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that she knew what it was like to be abused by family, even if it wasn't physical… she knew what it was like to not be loved.

Even though Contessa might have been cruel to adults, she never had the heart to be cruel to children. But what made Mikael so different from all the other patients that she'd treated? Well, maybe it was the fact that he had absolutely no one. His parents were dead, his godfather in jail for assisting with their murder, and his only living relatives did want him. If she were to leave him in an orphanage, he would eventually be found by the wrong people in the wizarding community.

That was another reason that Mikael was different from all the other patients that had been under her care. He was the boy-who-lived… he was Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who had defeated one the greatest dark lords ever known when he was barely out of his mother's womb for a year.

Harry Potter who was worshipped by the wizarding community for something he had no control over. Harry Potter who would be manipulated for other people's uses and discarded after his duty was done. No one would treat the boy fairly, no one would look out for his best interest before their own.

He need someone in the world he could trust. Some one who would tell him the truth about Voldemort, about the world. Someone who would teach him how to survive, and how to be strong. Some who would never, hurt or lie to him. He need _her_.

No one had ever truly needed her… not even Richard. _It is a strange feeling to be needed, but not at all an unpleasant one_, she could help but think. Contessa didn't know much about being a parent but she would try her best. When Harry got a little older… she would explain everything. About Voldemort, his real parents, Sirius Black… everything.

But not now… first she would give him time to adjust, perhaps a year or so. For a while, he could be Mikael.

She opened the locked door to the records office with a quick, "Alohamora," and located Mikael's files.

"Inferno." She whispered, smiling in satisfaction as the papers slowly burned away to nothing. Then, murmuring locking, silencing, and repelling charms on the door, Contessa began to chant an very old spell one of her professors had taught her. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and sighed a little. In a few hours, no one in this place would have any recollection of her or Mikael.

She left the place she had spent years of her life in with a smirk. She'd really missed being a badass witch.

* * *

Apparating into her house, Contessa was surprised at the sight that greet her eye. Mikael was on stool next to the kitchen counter… scrubbing. Contessa watched almost in slow motion as the stool began to topple over. Moving quick she caught the boy before he could hit the floor.

"Mikael! What on earth did you think you were doing?" Contessa cried out, the boy had nearly scared her half to death when he almost fell. He was still a bit sick and he shouldn't have been anywhere near that stool.

"I-I sorry! I didn't mean to fall! Don't hit me! I promise next time I clean-" Contessa stopped the boy's babble and sat him on the kitchen table.

"Mikael, calm down…. that's it. No one is going to hurt you. Look at me." The boy slowly lifted his head to stare into the clear blue eyes he'd come to trust in such a short amount of time. "I will NEVER ever raise a hand to you, Mikael. When I promised to take you in, I meant I would protect you from anyone who might what to harm you. Nothing you do, no matter how bad you may think it is, would make me mad enough to hurt you. And, I don't want you to ever clean in my absence ever again. I don't want to take care of you so that you can be my personal slave and clean up after me. That's not your job."

Contessa watched with a bit of sadness at how the boy's face contorted with confusion. Had Mikael really been taught he was nothing more but a whipping boy and a house elf? "Oh… but what is my job?"

"Job? What on earth do you mean Mikael?"

"I- but I need-" Mikael seemed to have a difficulty saying what he wanted to. Contessa realized after a moment that the boy was scared.

Once again she tried to reassure Mikael. "Mikael, whatever you have to tell me won't make me mad. I promise."

The boy seemed to still be uncertain. "P-Promise you won't be really mad?"

Smiling softly, she nodded. "O-Okay… well, if I can't clean what's my job? I-I mean, so you'll keep me?"

It took a moment for Contessa to understand what Mikael meant… but when she did finally comprehend what the boy was saying, she was shocked. Mikael thought he had to pay (so to speak) his way into her life. He thought he had to work for her to keep him!

Once again her raged flared up and she found herself wishing she'd have a chance to meet the Dursleys in a dark alley one day.

"Mikael, all you have to do for me to 'keep' you is to be yourself."

"But what if you don't like me anymore?"

"That will never happen. And, if you think that I ever don't like you, you can kick my arse right an' proper for upsetting you."

Mikael's small body shook slightly as he began to giggle softly. Perplexed, Contessa went over what she said that might have been funny. Suddenly Mikael burst out, "Mum, you said a bad word!"

She laughed slightly realizing that she had a slip of the tongue before pausing for a moment. What had Mikael just called her? Mum?

"I- Mikael… it probably would be best if you didn't call me that. Mum, I mean. Honestly, as much as I wish it weren't true, I'm not your birth mum."

Mikael's eyes once again shown with confusion as he said, "But, you take care of me. Isn't that what a mummy does? I want t-to call you that… you don't want to be my mum?"

"Of course I do! You can call me whatever you want, even mum… but only if you want to."

A small smile curled on the boy's lips. "I want to."

Contessa smiled back, but truthfully she felt a little out of place in this sappy moment. She never did sappy well.

"Well!" Contessa said a little loudly. "We better get ready for our move!"

**TBC So good? Bad?**


	3. Jumping to the Past

Author's Note: Yes, I am finally updating this story! Woo! This chapter is done in a different style than anything else that I've done. I hope you all like it. The beginning is written as if the character is writing a journal entry. I thought it was an interesting concept to try, tell me what you all think of it!

* * *

**Chapter Three: **Jumping to the Future

Hi.

My name is Mikael Lamia. I'm sixteen years old, with black hair and green eyes. Physically, I'm fit enough – nothing special. My mother, of course, tells me I'm a "hottie." I'm not sure I believe her; after all, she is a bit biased.

I'm good at most sports and I'm on the quadpod and quidditch teams at Broihm School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in El Diamante, California (1). I do alright in my classes, although I'm hopeless in potions. I have plenty of friends, but only one best friend. Alynna Nakashima – I could rant about her for hours, but that's not the point of this.

I'm not actually American.

I have a bit of my original accent, British. My mother moved here a few weeks after I met her during my stay in the hospital. I was four, and she was the only person I remember being kind to me in my entire life. She comforted me, held me when I cried. She even gave me a name. Before then, I was just Boy. At least, that's what my aunt and uncle used to call me.

If you haven't figured out by now, they were the reason I was in the hospital in the first place. They hurt me for no other reason than being alive. I used to think it was my fault; now I know better.

But I'm getting sidetracked, aren't I?

Just because the Dursleys refused to call me by my birth name doesn't mean that I didn't have one. The name I was born with, you see, is rather important. Even though it's not the name I use now, it's significant.

Harry Potter. Yes, you heard right. The Boy-Who-Lived. That's me. Are you over your shock yet?

Good.

Most people think I'm dead. That's a bit of an understatement, really. Only three people in the world know my 'true' identity. Me, mom, and 'Lynna. I like it that way. There are no expectations, no hero-worshipping. I got to grow up happy – like any kid should. I reckon being proclaimed dead is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

As you've probably figured out, my birth mother is dead. My real mother, however, is very much alive. Her name is Contessa Lamia; she can be a bit rough around the edges to others, but she's never been cruel to me. No matter how rude or sarcastic she gets, all the guys from school think she's hot. Long black hair, caramel skin, deep blue eyes – a real knockout. A couple of days ago, three guys from the quidditch team came to the house to give me a _pencil _one of them had borrowed just to catch a glimpse of her.

Pitiful, they are.

But it's not her outward appearance that's truly extraordinary. It's what she's done for me. She's the reason that everyone thinks I'm dead, the reason I can walk down a street without being hassled for doing something I don't even remember.

Years ago, she was a physician. When I was brought into Murine Regional Hospital bloodied, bruised, starved, and dehydrated, she became my mother. Not immediately, of course. Not even legally, as a matter of fact. She took me from England, and raised me here.

She risked her reputation as a respected doctor, even her _life_, to give me the childhood she thought I deserved. She stole me under the nose of one the most powerful wizards of all time.

Albus Dumbledore.

Just his name makes me shiver in the way most people do when talking of the Dark Lord. That man left me in a home with those _monsters_ and let me get abused. He knew what was happening. In fact, he encouraged their abuse, thinking I would be easy to control once I reached Hogwarts.

When mom told me what she'd found out from her digging when I was thirteen, I was shocked. Enraged. But most of all, I felt a cold type of fear. A man that could cast a one year old off to be beaten and starved for no other reason than to make a perfect tool is a man capable of anything. I fear Albus Dumbledore, but most times my loathing of him overshadows it. One day he will need to be stopped, and somehow I know that I'm going to be the one do it.

He'll regret the day he put his own agenda before my wellbeing.

Dammit, I'm off topic again.

Anyhow, the life that my mother took me from for my safety is soon to be the life that I'm going to enter again. You heard correctly. I'm going to Britain, going to Hogwarts. It isn't so much a choice; at least I don't think so. Necessity is what makes me leave the place in which I grew up.

I had no intention of ever being Harry Potter – Mikael Lamia is just fine with me. I don't need fame, fortune, and the like… I was content with my life. The operative word being 'was.'

A few months before I turned 15, something happened to me. I woke up screaming, in agony, my head feeling as if it were about to burst open from the scar that's been hidden since I was four. I'm no sissy, having had a couple of broken bones from quadpod, but I'd never felt anything that compared to that night.

I've always been grateful that Mom gave me a second chance at life, but in that moment, I would have given in to death to stop the pain. The vision that accompanied the pain was even worse, a vision of a pale snake like man with red eyes rising from a cauldron. A vision of a boy screaming as he was cut, beaten, and bludgeoned to death. A vision of men in black cloaks wearing horrifying masks. A vision of death. A vision of Voldemort, the wizard who killed my birth parents, rise again.

Since that day, my scar has pained me occasionally. Every once and a while, I'll get another vision of horror.

The point is I have to go back. I have to face this monster.

Only three people may know the truth of my identity, but Voldemort will stop at nothing to find me.

You see, He doesn't think I'm dead. He can feel me through my scar, and sometimes at night, I can hear whispers seeping through our twisted bond. Whispers of what He'll do when He finds me. How He'll murder and slaughter until I show myself. Of how He'll hurt my mother because she refused Him once, and because she keeps me hidden. How His wand will be the last thing I see before I died.

The whispers have stopped, largely because Mom has been teaching me Occulumency. But I know that Voldemort won't stop until he finds me. So, I'm going to do the last thing he expects. I'm going to bring the fight to him.

Mom and 'Lynna think I'm a few Knuts short of a Sickle (2), but they're coming along as well. They claim that I'm to dumb to take care of myself, but really I know it's because they want to stop me from going to Him as soon as I reach British shores. Because although Mom has trained me well, I'm not His equal… not yet.

But there are ways to change that. Ways I'm not entirely comfortable with.

But this is a war. A war I will end.

* * *

She was in a field, long grass brushing against her thighs. The hilly field stretched as long as the eye can see; a beautiful but forlorn picture as the moon cast soft sad shadows against the sea of grass, making it glow almost blue in color. She would have liked to see such a beautiful place in real life.

But, of course, this vision of sad beauty wasn't real – only the carefully manipulated dreams of a Master of Occulumns.

She didn't see him, not yet, although she was sure he was somewhere near. It was his dream, after all. For all she knew, he could be standing next to her, invisible to her dreams' eye –

"Ms. Lamia." – Or he could be standing right behind her.

Turning to look into his intriguing dark eyes she replied, "Contessa. Not Ms. Lamia. I feel like a misbehaving student when you say my name like that."

"As you wish… Contessa," the man said in a soft cold voice as if he'd never been familiar enough with another human to call them by their first name.

What an intriguing man he was. Pity he was such an arse. "We've met in the realm of dreams three times; this is the final time. You have made your decision?"

The man's mouth quirked up in an odd gesture, half-smile half-smirk. "And if I said no?"

Forcing herself not to react outwardly, she replied, "Then you would not be allowed to remember the secrets I have shared with you."

This time he snorted as if he'd just heard the most amusing joke. "Not even the Dark Lord could dream of Oblivating me. I know secrets of the mind that you could not even fathom."

"And I know secrets about the human body that would make even the likes of you squirm. I didn't realize this was a contest of intimidation. What is your decision? Will you assist me?"

"Yes."

Contessa blinked for a moment, almost confused. That was not the answer she'd been expecting. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. I shall see you in Britain, Contessa."

"Until next time Severus!" She called out as he began to fade away, not even sure he'd heard her.

* * *

(1) El Diamante is a fictional magical settlement in California I created.

(2) In my fic, all of the magical settlements in Europe and North America use the same currency; as part of a coalition between them made fifty years prior. The Muggle world, however, still has their individual currencies.


End file.
